


Learning to Fly

by cest_what



Category: Panic At The Disco
Genre: Alternate Universe - Boarding School, Gen, Kid Fic, M/M, Meet-Cute, Middle School
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-05-30
Updated: 2010-05-30
Packaged: 2017-10-09 19:36:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,943
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/90797
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cest_what/pseuds/cest_what
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Spencer had never started at a new boarding school on his own before.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Learning to Fly

**Author's Note:**

> Acknowledgments: Far too many people looked at this for me! Beams and thanks to scoradh, softlyforgotten and especially frankkincense.
> 
> Originally posted to [LJ](http://cest-what.livejournal.com/24329.html) August 2009.

Spencer had never started at a new boarding school on his own before.

He stepped out of the car, folding his arms around his middle while his mom hissed to herself as she tried to make the toggle that popped the trunk work.

The gates to the school looked like they were trying too hard, Spencer thought. They were curlicued and stupid, and they had spikes on the top so that you couldn't climb over them. They were standing open now, but they'd be closed after hours. Spencer could see where the words on the gates would come together when they were closed, to read _FOXLEY ACADEMY_.

He scowled at the spikes, and thought that it was a bad sign if they had to work so hard to keep kids from escaping over the fence. Obviously it was a _brilliant_ school; kids just loved it so much.

"For God's sake, Spence." His mother had managed to pop the trunk, and she was struggling to get Spencer's suitcase over the rim. "Would you stop moping like a five year old and come help me?"

Spencer dropped his arms and walked around to the back of the car.

"I don't think this is a good school," he said. He let his mother put the suitcase strap in his hands, but didn't try to lift it. "I think it would be better if I went to Chase with Ryan."

Ginger Smith sighed, straightening and cracking the cricks out of her neck. She was already in uniform, the military folds not quite regulation-crisp after three hours in the car. "Ryan's school is clear across the country, Spencer," she said. She pushed his fringe away from his eyes with her thumb. "This way you're close enough to come home on weekends when we're there."

"But I've heard that Chase's lacrosse program is really good," Spencer said. He stood straight and gave her his best appealing stare, trying to look like a budding lacrosse player.

"I'm sorry," Ginger said, and she did sound it. "I know you hate this."

"That's why I could –"

"But I'm not letting my son live six thousand miles away from me," his mother said firmly. "Not when he isn't even out of middle school."

*

Foxley was already awful. Ginger had barely had time to check him in at reception – she had to get to the base by twelve – so now Spencer lugged his suitcase to the dorms by himself. None of the other kids seemed that interested in him – Spencer was pretty sure this was another school full of army brats, so new kids wouldn't exactly be rare. He got to the stupid stone roofed walkway with the stupid pillars with swear words and initials scratched in them and stopped to rub at the red marks on his hands from the suitcase straps. There were a couple of older boys sprawled out in the shade of the nearest pillar. One of them was smoking, his messy black hair all in his face; the other one was swearing and giggling as he scratched patterns in his arm with the point of a compass. Every now and then the first one would look up and make a horrified face and kick him, and then go back to puffing on his cigarette and looking disaffected.

Spencer rolled his eyes.

Ryan would have rolled his too, only he wasn't there.

Spencer kicked at his suitcase. Then he picked it up again, lugging it towards the stairs the lady at reception had pointed out to him.

*

Spencer's parents and Ryan's dad had been in the same squadron since Spencer was four years old. He and Ryan _always_ went to new schools together when they had to move. If Ryan's dad hadn't been transferred to six thousand miles away, they would have been at this school together too.

They always spent the first week of a new school exploring all the corners you could hide out in, and working out which rooftops you could climb up to without breaking your neck. They shared notes about which teachers made a point of getting to know the new kids and which ones could be trusted not to notice if they were missing. They used enough cryptic in-jokes to make the other kids in their grade wary and faintly intimidated, and they never had any trouble. (Unless Ryan made it, which he only did when he'd been staying with his dad.)

When Ryan's dad had been transferred, Spencer had been pretty sure that something in the universe had come loose. Ryan had stared blank and panicked out of the back of the car as he was driven away, and Spencer had leaned on his mother and tried to make the rushing in his ears go away.

Ryan's first emails had been long, deadly sarcastic rants about the world in general and Chase Academy in particular and the dead, soulless people who went there, and how they were learning things he and Spencer had already learned when they were, like, eight. He didn't mention his dad. He didn't mention that he missed Spencer as though his leg had been cut off, either, but Spencer felt that it was implied.

And it wasn't that Spencer _wanted_ Ryan to be miserable – he was a totally awesome friend, of course he wanted Ryan to, like, have fun or whatever at his new school with the dumb name. It wasn't that he wished Ryan's emails had kept on being tragic epics of emo.

Spencer would maybe be all right with never having to read the name 'Jon Walker' again, though.

(_Jon Walker asked me to play basketball with them today_, the first email had gone.

And _Jon Walker says he can teach me to play guitar; he says I have the right kind of hands for it._

And _One time in fifth grade Jon Walker and his friend Tom got busted for smoking Jon's brother's pot._

And _Jon Walker likes Oreos without milk; isn't that cool? I never knew anyone else that liked Oreos without milk._

And _Jon Walker invented unicorns today._)

Spencer didn't think he sounded that great.

*

Spencer's room was apparently at the top of the tallest flight of stairs in the world. Spencer dragged his suitcase around a corner, groaning inside at the sight of yet more stairs. The lady in the office had just said to keep going till he got to the top floor. She hadn't mentioned that it was the top floor of the Eiffel Tower.

A group of younger boys clattered down the stairs, yelling to each other and taking the steps three at a time. Spencer flattened himself to the wall, pulling the trunk against his legs. The boys ignored him the way the kids scattered around the quad had.

When he finally got to his room, he found the door cracked open. He pushed it open further, peering inside.

Apparently he was sharing with one other boy. He knew that partly because there were two beds, and partly because there was a boy in jeans and a too-big tee shirt standing with his back to Spencer, unpacking his suitcase into three drawers pulled out at messy angles. He had the suitcase balanced on the sill of the room's one window, Spencer guessed to bring it up to the same height as the drawers.

"Um," Spencer said.

The boy startled, whirling around. His elbow knocked the suitcase and it slid backwards out of the window.

The boy gave a squeak and dived for it.

Spencer dropped his own suitcase and ran forward, joining the boy at the window. The boy had his arms clamped against the suitcase, leaning most of the way out of the window, and he was keeping it from sliding further down onto the crazily sloping roofs and gutters outside, but he couldn't get a good enough grip to pull it up.

"It's going to fall down," Spencer said urgently. "It's – hang on, let me get a hold!"

"Uh huh," the boy said, his voice tight and breathless. "It's just –"

"No, wait," Spencer said. He scrambled onto the windowsill, cramming himself in beside the other boy. He leaned out crazily far and managed to get one hand around the strap at the top. He wriggled back into the room, pulling, and the other boy gave a grunt and grabbed a different part of the suitcase, dragging it up a few inches.

Together, they struggled it back into the room. It flopped on the floor, spilling clothes in a tangle.

Spencer looked back up at the other boy, who was out of breath, his hair mussed and pushed up off his forehead in a tuft. The boy hugged his arms around himself, his eyes kind of wide, his cheeks going red.

Spencer toed the floor.

"Thanks," the boy said in a rush. "I can't believe –" He laughed, high and nervous, and didn't meet Spencer's eyes. "I can't believe I nearly dropped my suitcase."

Spencer bit his lip. "Out the _window_," he said.

The boy's eyes flew to Spencer's. He searched Spencer's expression, hugging his arms tighter around himself. Then he dropped his arms, laughing again. "Yeah. Um, just. Thanks. Again. I can't believe – wow, I'm such a spaz, right?" He bit his lip, looking shy. "I'm – I'm Brendon. I guess you're my roommate?"

Spencer nodded. "I guess? I'm Spencer."

Brendon glanced at him and then away, smiling and still flushed. "Awesome," he said.

Spencer had to hesitate, because – because he wasn't sharing with Ryan. He'd always shared with Ryan before, and Brendon wasn't Ryan. But... Spencer shoved his hands in his pockets, glancing around the room. It actually – for Foxley, you know. It didn't look completely awful.

He looked back at Brendon, whose smile had dimmed. Spencer shrugged, smiling a bit sheepishly. "So, uh," he said. "I think some of your stuff fell out of your suitcase onto the roof."

*

They sat shoulder to shoulder on the windowsill, staring down at the bright red sweatshirt and the pair of pyjama bottoms that had fallen out of the suitcase. They were strung across the roof tiles, about five feet out reach. Every time the wind picked up, one sleeve of the sweatshirt flapped a bit.

After a moment, Spencer said, "You're lucky you didn't have one of those suitcases on wheels. It would have, like –" He made a wheely motion with one hand. "Right off the edge of the roof."

Brendon giggle-snorted and pushed his hands under his knees, his eyes shining bright and still giggling as if what Spencer had said was the funniest thing he'd ever heard. "It could be like a school legend," he said, between giggles. "This suitcase that came flying off the edge of the roof into, like. The fountain."

Spencer grinned back at him and kicked his legs. "I bet you could get it further than the fountain if you pushed. I bet you could get it to the office."

"I bet you could get it to the _gym_," Brendon said. He kicked at Spencer's leg, grinning wide when Spencer kicked back.

"I don't even know where the gym is."

"I'll show you after breakfast tomorrow," Brendon promised.

Spencer kicked at Brendon's leg again.

Foxley actually looked like a kind of okay school, from the view up here.

Brendon leaned forward, kicked his leg out a bit further, waving it in the direction of his sweatshirt.

"I bet I could reach your clothes if I climbed down the roof," Spencer said.

"They're my clothes," Brendon said immediately. "I'm going to climb down. I was just ... I've been preparing."

"Whatever," Spencer said, "we can both climb down." If Spencer had been able to keep Ryan from falling to his death all these years, he was pretty sure he could keep Brendon on the roof. "I think we can get to the sweatshirt, and then it's, like, we just have to slide over to get the pyjamas. There's only one tricky bit – see there, with the missing tiles?" Spencer pointed; Brendon leaned forward.

"Yeah," he said. He sounded a little more doubtful, now that he'd got his way. His voice firmed up as he added, "I've climbed like a million trees. I bet it's not that different."

"Totally," Spencer said, even though it was completely different. Spencer hated climbing trees.

It turned out it wasn't that hard to reach the sweatshirt. _Or_ the pyjamas. Only then Brendon noticed that a pair of uniform trousers had snagged way down on the guttering on the lowest part of the roof, right near where the two opposing slopes met.

"I can get them!" Spencer called. "I'm closer!" He was already moving as he spoke, sliding down on his backside, his hands pressed hard enough to bruise into the roof tiles. The wind had picked up and it was whipping Spencer's hair in his eyes.

The uniform trousers were _really_ close to the edge. Spencer was still a couple of feet away, and he could see way over the edge of the roof, down to the quad and, nearer in, to the walkway with the pillars. He could see the same two boys still sprawled in the shade, and other kids scattered around. A figure who looked like the school principal – Spencer and his mother had met her briefly only half an hour ago – was pacing across the quad, a bundle of folders in her arms. All the figures were small and flattened from up here so high, though.

If you fell, you would be dead the second you hit the ground.

Spencer inched a little further down. Holding his breath, he leaned forward, and forward. Not quite far enough, and he let his legs slide another inch towards the edge. He leaned forward again, his fingers closing around the stiff fabric of the trousers.

Spencer gave a hiss of triumph and draw them back towards him.

In the quad below, something made the principal look up at the roof.

Spencer threw himself down, sliding another couple of inches as he flattened himself against the tiles.

"Shit," Brendon was hissing. "Oh, oh God, oh – I think she can see you, Spencer, she's still looking, I think she can see you."

"Shut up," Spencer whispered. "Sound travels, shut up, shut up."

Brendon was far enough back that he could crouch behind the jut of the adjoining roof, barely visible at all as he peered down into the school below. Spencer could hear Brendon breathing fast and panicked, and he wanted to tell him to _stop_, because it was making Spencer panicked too, but if Brendon stopped breathing he would probably pass out, so. So Spencer tightened his fingers more tightly around the harsh edges of the roof tiles, trying to convince himself he wasn't slipping further with every second.

"Spencer," Brendon whispered.

"What," Spencer mumbled into the roof.

"Spencer, she's looked away."

Spencer chanced a glance under his arm, down at the quad. The principal had taken out one of her folders and was reading it intently as she continued across the quad.

Spencer pushed up to his hands and knees, his heels slipping against the gutter, and scrambled as fast as he could up the slope of the roof. Brendon got to the open window before him, turning around once he was over the sill and grabbing Spencer's arms, pulling Spencer up after him.

They collapsed into the room. Spencer's heart was going about eight times as fast as normal.

"Oh my _God_," Brendon said. He sounded shell shocked. "We would – we would have been so expelled. Oh my _God_."

"I got –" Spencer panted. He was shivering with adrenaline. "I got your pants."

Brendon stared at him, his eyes dropping to the uniform trousers still twisted in Spencer's fist. "You are a _legend_," he said fervently. He took the trousers and threw himself back on his bed, hugging them to his chest.

Spencer dropped onto the end of Brendon's bed, laughing, a choking giggle. "Your _uniform_," he said.

Brendon spread his arms out wide. "It would be like –" He laughed, breathless. "It would be like, at first class tomorrow, 'Oh sorry sir, I don't have my uniform, it fell out the window'."

Spencer laughed even harder, pressing his face against his knees.

When he looked up, Brendon was watching him, his face bright and happy. Spencer dumped his legs on top of Brendon's, sprawled on the coverlet. "So lame," he said, grinning back.

They sat there, legs tangled together as their breathing quieted, Spencer's heart rate slowly beginning to return to normal.

"My friend Ryan?" Spencer said after a while. Brendon lifted his head. Spencer bit his lip; let out a breath. "His friend Jon once got suspended for a month for climbing onto the top of the gym to take pictures." He started to smile. "Ryan says he only got caught because he used the pictures in Art class, and even _then_ it took the teacher three weeks to notice."

Brendon giggled, struggling up into a cross-legged position. "No way," he said.

"It's true!"

Brendon flopped back onto his pillow. "At my last school there was this boy who got caught collecting pieces of the teachers' hair," he said. "I think he was going to use it for voodoo or something."

Spencer twisted around on the bed, leaning up against the wall, and started marshalling competitive anecdotes in his mind. His attention kept getting distracted, though. "We nearly got _expelled_," he breathed. "I nearly fell off the roof."

Brendon looked at him and grinned wide, wider. "Best first day _ever_," he said.

Spencer kind of had to agree.


End file.
